ffi-i 



eoL 



DISCOURSE 



COMMEMORATIVE OF 



A BI E L C H AND L E R, 



FOTJ-VDER OF 



THE CHANDLER SCHOOL AT DARTMOUTH COLLEGE, 



I>ELIVBRED AT 



COMMENCEMENT; 



July 29, 1852. 



BY NATHAN LORD, 



PRESIDENT. 



LD 

8 



BOSTON: 

PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON & SON, 
22, School Street. 







Pass Lr ]i4:) r 
Book ^ 



A 



DISCOURSE 



COMAIEMOKATIVE OF 



ABIEL CHANDLER, 



FOUNDER OF 



THE CHANDLER SCHOOL AT DARTMOUTH COLLEGE, 



DELIVERED AT 



COMMENCEMENT, 



July 29, 1852. 



BY NATHAN LORD, 



PRESIDENT. 



BOSTON: 

PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON & SON, 

22, School Street. 

1852. 






iU EXCHANG* 

N. E. Hi^t. Genl. 3oc 



! 

: 



DISCOURSE. 



I RISE, by order of the Trustees, to announce the 
organization of The Chandler School of Science 
AND THE Arts, as a new department of instruction in 
the College. 

The School is constituted by the last Will and 
Testament of Abiel Chandler. In that document, 
remarkable as well for learned propriety as for 
benevolence, the sum of fifty thousand dollars is 
bequeathed to the Trustees of Dartmouth College, 
" in trust, for the establishment and support of a per- 
manent department or school of instruction in said 
College, in the practical and useful arts of life, 
comprised chiefly in the branches of mechanics and 
civil engineering, the invention and manufacture of 
machinery, carpentry, masonry, architecture, and 
drawing ; the investigation of the properties and uses 
of materials employed in the arts ; the modern Ian- 



guages and English literature ; ^ together with book- 
keeping, and such other branches of knowledge as 
may best qualify young persons for the duties and 
employments of active life." 

In order to the faithful observance of the wishes of 
the testator in respect to this foundation, a perpetual 
Board of Visitors is constituted by his Will, whose 
duty it is to examine the condition of its funds, the 
management and disposition of the same, as well as 
the management of the affairs of the School in 
general. 

In accordance with these and other provisions of 
the Will, an experimental basis and scheme of instruc- 
tion and discipline have been adopted by the Trustees ; 
and the School will be opened to young men at the 
beginning of the next College term. 

In connection with this announcement, it is made 
my duty by the Board of Trustees, in public testimo- 
nial of the honor due from them, and from the friends 
of learning in general, to^ the memory of this distin- 
guished patron and benefactor, to discourse, at this 
time, of his life and character, and of the value of his 
benefactions. 

Abiel Chandler was a native of New Hampshire. 
He was born at Concord, February 26th, 1777, son of 



I 
( 



Daniel Chandler, and grandson of Capt. John Chand-- 
ler, who was an original proprietor and settler of that 
town. His mother, Sarah Merrill, was a daughter of 
Deacon John Merrill, also an original proprietor and 
settler, — a devout man, and the ancestor of several 
ministers of the gospel, of that name. 

Mr. Chandler s parents were highly respectable and 
worthy, but poor. In his childhood, they removed to 
Fryeburg, Me., where he labored on a farm till the 
age of twenty-one years. Then, by the aid of a 
brother, he fitted for college at Phillips Exeter Aca- 
demy, and graduated, in 1806, at Harvard. 

After leaving college, he was a teacher at Salem 
and Newburyport till 1817, a term of eleven years. 
To the good reputation which he had previously 
gained as a student, he added that of an excellent 
preceptor. He was an exact disciplinarian and a 
thorough teacher. By great faithfulness and pro- 
priety, he gained the confidence of the best citizens, 
who were his friends through life. He left this 
employment with money sufiicient to liquidate the 
expenses of his education, and to establish himself as 
a merchant. 

After a year's experimental but unsatisfactory resi- 
dence at Baltimore, he then, by advice of his excellent 
and eminent friend, the late Dr. Bowditch, began 



e 



mercantile life at Boston. He was of the house of 
Chandler & Howard, and afterwards Chandler, How- 
ard, & Company, till 1845, — more than a quarter of a 
century, — when he retired with a fortune. He pur- 
chased a beautiful seat at Walpole, in his native State, 
where he died, March 21, 1851, at the age of seventy- 
four years. 

In 1828 he married a daughter of Epes Sargent, 
Esq., of Boston, — a lady of great personal attractions 
and endowments, and distinguished worth. His 
domestic life was unusually serene and happy, — 
answerable to the purity of his character, and the 
ease and dignity of his social position. Upon the 
decease of Mrs. Chai^dler, in 1837, he gradually 
relinquished the cares of business, and, being child- 
less, occupied himself mainly in various occasional 
offices of charity, and in maturing those plans of 
enlarged and patriotic beneficence, for which genera- 
tions will honor him. 

This occasion does not admit of an extended por- 
traiture of our munificent benefactor. It will be a 
sufficient use of the sketches with which I have been 
favored by the courtesy of his friends, to remark 
a singular grouping of qualities, which gave him a 
peculiar individuality and excellence. I do not ob- 
serve any one trait for which alone he would have 



1 



been likely to acquire a popular distinction. He was' 
not a genius. He exhibited no striking prominences 
of character. But his assemblage of traits was beauti- 
ful. It required, but rewarded, attentive study. It 
could endure the most intelligent and searching criti- 
cism. The combined effect of his most characteristic 
qualities upon those who knew him was always 
agreeable; and it remained with them. They ever 
turned to him again, more approving, confiding, and 
loving. He would not have been thought likely to 
have great success in any of his difierent pursuits; 
for his abilities were hidden by his modesty. But 
success always followed him, and he gained a higher 
mark than many who exceeded him in occasional 
popularity. He affected nothing. He was not ambi- 
tious. He did not boast. He never figured. He 
distrusted those who did. But his companionship 
was with the wisest and best men. His friends were 
the supporters of society, and they were sure of him. 
They were confident where he would stand on the 
great questions of life, and were never disappointed. 
They never thought of the possibility that he should 
be false to them or to himself; that he would balk 
a good purpose, or dishonor his place. He was one 
of the few men who consider well their enterprise, 
and never fail. His course was slow, because it was 



8 



deliberate ; but, for the same reason, it was sure, and 
its issue alike honorable to himself, and useful to 
mankind. 

The qualities of Mr. Chandler which constituted 
this sterling excellence I judge to have been great 
singleness of heart, fixed principle, pure affections, 
intelligence, comprehension, judgment, caution, pre- 
cision, order, propriety, with unusual benevolence, 
tenderness, suavity, meekness, a fearful but settled 
determination, anxious but unflinching courage, pru- 
dent, quiet, but unyielding firmness. Certain it must 
have been that these qualities existed largely, and were 
consistently educated. They were in remarkable pro- 
portion and harmony. They never crowded one upon 
another. They were admirably sustained and tem- 
pered ; and they distinguished him to the end of life. 

On the whole, I seem to myself to have observed 
in Mr. Chandler's character, as learned from others, 
a remarkable propriety, symmetry, and finish, on a 
higher scale than is common, even ^in the circles 
which he contributed to adorn. Had I known him, 
these views might have been modified by my own 
method of observation. It is unsafe to portray, ex- 
cept from life ; but it would be difficult in his case, 
even with that disadvantage, not to make a likeness. 
It cannot be doubtful that he was religious, moral. 



9 



and wise ; that he was resolute, diligent, and untir- 
ing ; that he was affectionate, gentle, and^ benevolent ; 
that he was just, but humane; scrupulous, but gene- 
rous; requiring, but forgiving; holding others to a 
strict accountability, but confiding and liberal, and 
submitting himself to a righteous scrutiny. He 
knew what was right, and not less what was prudent 
and becoming ; and his behavior was conformable, 
not as an artist, but an honest man. He allowed to 
others liberty of judgment, and stood equally to his 
own ; but admitted neither on his own part or theirs 
any independence of legitimate authority. He asked 
advice of his neighbors when he wanted it, but fol- 
lowed it only upon conviction. He would never 
provoke their opposition, but would not flatter them 
for their good opinion. He loved a good name, but 
he could live without it ; and a good estate, but not 
at the expense of virtue ; and an honorable standing, 
but not well enough to be a sycophant or a dema- 
gogue. He was never unfaithful to himself or his 
friends, his country or his church. His religious 
associations were Unitarian. But he was brought up 
in Calvinism ; and I am told by those who knew him 
best, that a distinct vein of that old metal ran through 
him. 

Mr. Chandler's last Will and Testament is now a 



10 



printed document. It is eminently characteristic. It 
is significant of his mental and moral habits, and his 
methods as a man of business. In respect to benefi- 
cence, it has hardly a parallel : his ample fortune was 
all bestowed in charity. To numerous relatives, less 
prospered than himself, who, for a quarter of a cen- 
tury, had been receiving constant and substantial 
tokens of his sympathy, he made liberal bequests, 
with great delicacy and judgment. After his legacy 
to the College, the residue of his estate, amounting 
to about ^25,000, was bequeathed to the New 
Hampshire Asylum for the Insane. 

The Trustees, having received from J. J. Dixwell 
and Francis B. Hayes, Esquires, — Mr. Chandler's 
executors, and the Visitors designated by his will, — 
the full amount of his munificent bequest, will pro- 
ceed, in good faith, to apply it, with a profound sense 
of its value to learning, and with corresponding 
expectations of advantage. 

But such prospective values and advantages are, 
of course, speculative : they admit not of reckoning. 
Our hopes may be disappointed. The presumption is 
reasonable, that, in such cases, what is benevolently, 
is also wisely, given ; that equal wisdom and benevo- 
lence will preside over the use of it ; and that the 



11 



benefits will be proportioned to the magnitude of the 
gift. Wherefore we regard it, gratefully, as the gift 
of God. Liberal endowments to learned institutions 
are, theoretically, necessary to the public welfare, inas- 
much as such institutions are necessary, and could not 
otherwise be advanced, nor even, without the greatest 
difficulty, be sustained. Wherefore we reasonably 
honor the founders of such public charities ; we honor 
the institutions which, by such means, are put in a 
greater capacity of doing good. But no human pro- 
ject, however sincerely benevolent, is absolutely wise ; 
no administration is likely, in the long run, to answer 
the original design ; no foresight or sagacity, however 
wisely and benevolently exercised, can anticipate all 
the vicissitudes of society, or devise measures suited 
to all the providential changes and contingencies of 
life. Our congratulations, therefore, in the receipt 
of valuable favors, must be moderated by our experi- 
mental knowledge of the imbecility of man, our 
recollections of his failures in important trusts, and 
our conscious incapacity to measure or control the 
providence of God. 

There are reasons which justify anxiety in regard 
to the distinguished charity which we now acknow- 
ledge. Experience has taught the danger of change 
in institutions long existing, and, on the whole, 



12 



successfully carried on. Change, if it contemplates 
great results, has a corresponding reach. It is, 
then, likely to affect not merely what is accidental, 
and therefore of little consequence, but also what is 
essential, and therefore necessary to a healthful and 
permanent existence. Some things are true. Some 
things are settled. They are vital. They are adapt- 
ed to the nature of man and of society; they are 
demanded by the common necessities, and grow out 
of them, and are in accordance with the will of God. 
Any infringement upon what is so established cannot 
be useful. There may be a great apparent reason for 
it in the stress of adverse circumstances, in public 
opinion, in tempting offers, in magnificent speculative 
calculations ; but 'a bad reaction is as certain as the 
violation of a settled law. Experience has shown, 
also, that wise and good men are likely to mistake, 
and sometimes in matters of the greatest consequence; 
that they confound the essential and the accidental ; 
that they disregard the real in their over-estimates of 
the apparent ; that they neglect the present, in their 
zealous arrangements for the expected future ; till 
they find, to their cost, that their fact, though dull, 
was better than their hypothesis, though splendid. 
But this is not always true. Perhaps it is never 
necessary. Changes are frequently demanded in 



a 



13 



learned institutions by new and different conditions 
of learning itself, by important changes in the social 
state, or by peculiar providences of God. They may 
be of great consequence in removing obstacles to 
learning and virtue, or in introducing principles and 
methods more effective in raising society to a higher 
level. But we cannot calculate these conditions, nor 
the consequences of change, beforehand. We take 
a risk ; and no wise man takes a risk on which great 
results depend, without anxiety. 

The dangers of change are also sometimes in- 
creased by the peculiar temper of society. Such 
dangers are not inconsiderable at the present time. 
Society is now highly excited. Its fancies are lively. 
It is eager, speculative, and notional. It is feverish 
and impatient ; impatient of restraint, of thought, of 
judgment, of labor, of care, of responsibility; im- 
patient of what is old, and soon impatient, equally, 
of what is new. It is urgent in its demands; ro- 
mantic in its expectations; sanguine in its profes- 
sions ; extravagant and boastful when its humors are 
gratified; fretful, sharp, and malignant in its disap- 
pointments. Learned institutions are liable to be 
unduly affected by this extreme irritability of society; 
either tempted, in their adversity, to suit themselves 
to the popular caprice to obtain advantage, or, in 



14 



their prosperity, to keep or to extend it. But to 
begin change, under such an atmospheric stimulus, is, 
generally, to continue it ; and a succession of changes 
is likely to take away the power of continuance in 
the best supposable conditions. Yet, even in the 
most dangerous moods of society, change may be 
important to head oiF otherwise destructive tenden- 
cies, or to hang upon and restrain them, or to defer 
or limit their catastrophes. It is supposable that a 
hard and unyielding conservatism should exasperate 
a dangerous spirit that could otherwise be tempered 
or diverted, and aggravate an explosion that could 
have been prevented, or rendered comparatively harm- 
less. But in such difficult cases it is still more im- 
possible to make, satisfactorily, any a priori reckoning 
of probabilities. We take a risk. 

The management of Mr. Chandler's trust requires 
a change in the organization of the College. The 
change is adopted because of certain wants of so- 
ciety, and corresponding social tendencies, which are 
thought sufficient to warrant, if not to demand, such 
a modification of the College order. But the change 
will be modal, and not essential. It will be simple, 
and, for the present, experimental. It will consist 
mainly of addition. The regular College course is 
left untouched. No arrangement is made or con tern- 



15 



plated that will diminish the number, quantity, or 
proportion of the studies or exercises heretofore esta- 
blished as a foundation for the learned professions. 
These will be liable to be inter-penetrated by the 
spirit and genius of the new department. But the 
influence will be reciprocal. Nothing will necessa- 
rily be lost by either. The system is intended to be 
one of mutual giving and receiving, with a view to 
the more natural and perfect development of all the 
branches, and a greater corresponding usefulness and 
dignity of the College. 

By this new organization the College receives pre- 
paratory students, and classes of under-graduates, who 
contemplate, not the professional but active pursuits 
of life. It introduces new branches and methods of 
study adapted to this description of young men ; and 
it creates a new degree, — the degree of Bachelor in 
Science, — intended to be equivalent to the degree of 
Bachelor of Arts. The spirit of the department is 
popular, in distinction from the professional, but with 
a view to the same beneficial ends. Its scope is to 
elevate mechanical and industrial pursuits, and give 
to material science and labor a social and politi- 
cal consequence in a higher proportion than they 
have heretofore held to the professional. It implies 
that all the departments of knowledge and occupa- 



16 



tion, though not equally important, are equally 
necessary to the subsistence and well-being of society ; 
and that they have hitherto not held their natural and 
proper relation to each other. Its aim is to restore 
that natural and constitutional propriety. This is 
its theory. Whether it be legitimate, and how faf ; 
or practicable, and in what conditions ; or by what 
methods, — are the problems to be solved. 

The Trustees, having accepted Mr. Chandler's trust, 
are bound to carry it on according to his ideas. But 
they accepted his ideas first, or they would not have 
undertaken his proposed work. The elementary 
principle of his charity, as they understand it from 
his Will, and as it is interpreted to them by his Visi- 
tors, corresponds with the theory of the College. 
That is, it is not social or political, but moral. The 
College is a moral being. Its organization and its 
responsibility are moral. Its end is not utility, but 
right ; not happiness, but virtue. It rejects not the 
lower: it labors to promote them, but only in sub- 
serviency to the higher, and according to a higher 
law than that of any temporary or occasional expe- 
diency. It is for God, and not for man. It is for 
man only in his relations as a creature of God and 
accountable. Mr. Chandler's theory is also moral, in 
distinction from the social and political. It is social 



ii 



17 



and political only in reference to a moral end. The 
moral, in his view, is both beginning and end. He 
propounds it "as first of all, and above all." He pro- 
fesses not to stand on any speculative basis. He 
plants not his charity on any speculative ideas of 
liberty, equality, or the rights of man ; or any natural 
perfectibility of society through physical organiza- 
tions, or intellectual discipline, or material civiliza- 
tion. He requires not the Trustees to erect a model 
school, after any pattern of romantic reform, or any 
partisan or sectarian peculiarities, but on the princi- 
ples which have been settled for ages and generations. 
The Trustees consent to perform his work upon these 
ideas. Upon any other, they would think it visionary 
and impossible. They look for success in it only so 
far as these principles are intended by the Divine 
Providence to have effect in society, and so far as 
the methods of instruction and discipline, from time 
to time adopted, shall proceed from them, and be 
conformable. 

The Trustees appreciate Mr. Chandler's proximate 
reasons for making this endowment, — reasons grow- 
ing out of the importance of knowledge to society. 
Its origin is referable to an incident that occurred to 
him when a young man at Fryeburg. Being there a 
laborer, at the age of twenty-one years, comparatively 



18 



uneducated and ignorant, he fell in company with 
some students of Dartmouth College. He was im- 
pressed by their superiority — not affected, but real — 
to himself They knew more than he did, aad could 
better tell what they knew. He was humbled in 
their presence. But he was not ashamed. He con- 
ceived the purpose of being himself a scholar; and 
he fulfilled it. Upon graduating at Harvard, he 
became a teacher, — as good, without doubt, as the 
young men of Dartmouth who had inspired him. 
When, after a few years of honorable industry as a 
teacher, he became a merchant, then the idea con- 
ceived at Fryeburg was freshened by the peculiarities 
of his new position. He saw himself, though now a 
scholar, ignorant, to a great extent, of the principles 
and methods of mercantile life. Whereupon he set 
himself to a new variety of learning. He gained it, 
and with it gained a fortune. He saw other men 
around him, in different spheres, suffering, as he had 
done, from a similar want of knowledge. Merchants, 
traders, ship-masters, artisans, farmers, laborers, — all 
failed, under his observation, to make their respective 
callings lucrative, beneficial, and honorable, to any 
adequate degree. They were ignorant, to a great 
extent, of the best books, the best tools, the best 
methods of use, and the best results. They were 



19 



ignorant of the relations naturally subsisting between 
the different branches of science and art, and their 
comprehensive influence upon society. They were 
consequently incapable of turning their abilities to 
the best account, and subjected themselves to inju- 
rious temptations. His idea grew upon him. It 
would not let him rest. He long revolved expedients 
for giving it the best effect as a public benefactor. It 
assumed shape and definiteness, at length, in his last 
Will and Testament. The result is the Chandler 
School; not the product of an impulse or a senti- 
ment, but of the hard thinking and experience of a 
life ; the ripened fruit of a well-considered purpose to 
benefit mankind. 

His charity, in its conception and design, is sound, 
comprehensive, and benevolent. It is adapted to the 
conditions of society, its wants and interests. But 
the mode of it is, till recently in this country, new, pe- 
culiar, and consequently uncertain. It has difficulties. 
They consist, mainly, in defining hitherto unknown 
relations ; in adjusting the unknown to the known, 
without sufficient advantage of precedent and exam- 
ple, so as not to harm a comprehensive unity of 
design ; and in providing for the results, — that is, in 
controlling the bad tendencies of learning and skill 
when they become accumulated. It is historically 



20 



certain, even if it be not necessary from the laws of 
disordered mind, that learning and skill, like any 
natural endowment or acquired possession, beyond 
certain limits, become exorbitant, overreaching, and 
destructive. Society has a violent propensity to over- 
step these constitutional limits. It is captivated by 
ideal advantages in prospect; it rushes on, uncon- 
sciously, to seize them ; it encourages and urges its 
institutions to a corresponding enterprise, and per- 
ceives not its danger till it is driven back or de- 
stroyed: just as most men aspire to riches, station, 
power, glory, without limit or restraint, and perceive 
not the evils likely to ensue to themselves and their 
children till it is too late. 

These difficulties attending the advancement of 
learning, as of civilization in general, belong not to 
learning itself, or any of the material benefits resulting 
from it, but to the moral infirmity of our nature. 
Nothing is good without virtue. But most men have 
not virtue ; and virtuous men are sometimes so imper- 
fect that their very virtues serve but to give a greater 
currency to their faults and errors. Divine Provi- 
dence, therefore, restrains society in this respect, as 
in all others, for its good. It keeps us as near as 
possible to a state of nonage and discipline, so long 
as it pleases to give us sound intelligence, or true 



21 



prosperity and glory. When it leaves us to our 
excited imaginations to anticipate our inheritance, to 
forestall our period of maturity, and to dream of 
possibilities, then it is natural for actual truth and 
goodness to be succeeded by fictions and chimeras, 
and these to issue in decline and revolution. There 
are no exceptions to this in the history of society. In 
an unmoralized state of the world, or any part of it, 
when a few have attained to great intellectual emi- 
nence, the many have become victims of their cupidity 
and ambition. Such is the philosophy of despotism. 
It blackens the history of the past. But, by equal 
reason, to make these physical attainments universal, 
whether in respect to material or mental progress, in 
the same moral conditions of society, would be univer- 
sally destructive. A general increase of the sources 
and instruments of power, by the general diffusion of 
knowledge, would produce, by a natural law, a com- 
mensurate increase of competition, overreaching, and 
dissension, and, by consequence, extreme individual- 
ism, disintegration, anarchy, and ruin. If all French- 
men or Germans were, in this respect, like the few 
philosophers and schoolmen who represent them, 
France and Germany would, without a long interval, 
anticipate their doom ; just as a great forest would 
soon become a desert, if all the beasts were wild, and 



22 



all the wild beasts were lions. It should not be 
forgotten that society may be educated to its ruin, 
not in being educated too much, but, according to 
disordered nature, falsely ; and that the ruin is likely 
to be severe and terrible in proportion as the false- 
hood and the consequent danger are subtle and 
unperceived. Sophistry and chicane, however refined 
and dignified by learning, or sanctioned by expediency, 
cannot countervail the ordinances of God. The 
highest law ultimately prevails. 

Recognizing the universal and active government 
of God, we observe the success of this particular 
experiment to depend mainly upon two questions, — 
namely, whether it is the will of God that the 
progress of learning and skill, during the present 
disturbed and deranged state of things, shall be, in 
respect to the generality, subservient to virtue, con- 
trary to all past experience ; and whether the old and 
new departments of the College can be harmonized in 
reference to their common moral end, about which 
experience has yet taught nothing. The former of 
these questions is very high and difficult. It can be 
settled only by a science higher than has yet been 
taught adequately in any of the schools, — the science 
of Biblical interpretation. The latter, at least for the 
present, may be resolved. It would be a short 



n 



23 



method of resolving it to say, that the extraordinary 
accession which the College has received to the 
physical departments of instruction should be accom- 
panied by equal accessions to the other and higher 
departments. But that is utterly improbable. It 
would be inconvenient. It might be injurious. It 
would make a being too large for the space it has to 
live in. We are ordained to grow in this world only 
to a determinate stature, and for a corresponding 
period. Up to our appointed limits, we can expand 
in general. But the natural maximum is soon at- 
tained ; and, beyond that, accession is not growth, but 
excrescence; not development, but inflation; which 
are both signs of disease, and tokens of dissolution. 
We must take another ground, which is the true one, 
and which, it is to be hoped, will have attentive 
consideration from the friends and benefactors of the 
College, — that none of its higher departments have 
yet, by far, attained their respective limits. They all 
need and want, each for itself, and in its relations to 
the whole, the stimulus of a higher patronage. They 
must be made to keep their respective places, to hold 
their rank, to perform their offices ; each made more 
productive by the general fruitfulness, and the whole 
more effective by the increased vigor of every part. 
If it were supposed that the new department, from 



24 



the remarkable and dangerous development of phy- 
sical science at the present time, would become 
encroaching, and disproportionate to more essential 
varieties of learning, yet that evil is, at the worst, 
remote, and perhaps never necessary. The new 
accession to the College is not yet of learning, but of 
the means of learning. The learning is yet to be 
acquired by the instruments which are put into our 
hands. While the process is going on, other depart- 
ments may receive a more adequate support, and a 
corresponding impulse. The new may consist with 
a higher advancement of the old, and be a natural 
occasion of it ; and the old become effectual in giving 
temper and direction to the new. Up to the natural 
limits, all the departments may attain to a higher 
proportion, symmetry, and finish, and become in 
general more subservient to the ends of the common 
foundation. Within these limits we cast our anchor ; 
we work with good hope, and with devout gratitude 
for whatever means of growth the Divine Providence 
may appoint. Beyond these limits we take no re- 
sponsibility. That is the natural inheritance of our 
children. Every age must have its own probation. 

Meanwhile, the higher and more ultimate question 
— namely, whether learning, in general, and its insti- 
tutions, in their higher advancement, will be made 



25 

subservient to virtue, and the consequent well-being 
of society — should not greatly disturb us. As wise 
and Christian men we must consider it. It will, of 
right, affect our judgments and our measures. This, 
history demands of us. History is full of admonition 
to the men of this generation, — the history of ancient 
nations, from whose successive schools flowed the 
currents of false wisdom which bore them to their 
destruction; and not less of the modern nations, 
which, from the same causes, are now revolutionized to 
their centres, driven hither and thither by the antago- 
nisms of superstition and fanaticism, absolutism and 
anarchy. These lessons should have our profound 
and attentive Study. It is no part of wisdom to slur 
or to misinterpret them. It is no part of manhood 
to be unmoved by them. But equally it is no part of 
wisdom or manhood to shrink from the difficulties 
of our own position because of the mistakes of others ; 
or to faint in view of the uncertainties and dangers 
of the future, because of the errors of men, and the 
judgments of God, which have happened to the past. 

Indeed it should be considered, that our educa- 
tional difficulties, and, by consequence, the dangers of 
society, great and manifold as they are, beyond the 
reckoning of superficial observers, who see nothing 
but glory in every thing that is magnificent, and 
4 



26 



nothing but suns or gems in every thing that 
shines, present no reason for discouragement; but, 
on the contrary, a higher inducement to manly 
enterprise and benevolent exertion. For it is the 
order of Providence, that the good gifts which man- 
kind in general abuse and pervert to their own 
undoing shall yet, though at such great expense, 
ensue to an end higher than human happiness,— 
even the more perfect exhibition of moral govern- 
ment. Or, if one law of Heaven become severe upon 
good men, in the way of a necessary discipline, 
another and a more benignant law comes in to temper 
it. And there is a higher law by which all things, in 
the general winding up of a probationary state, will 
be seen to have worked together for good to the 
men of true virtue and religion, who honored God in 
the trials and difficulties to which they were subjected 
on account of their deference to his will. God has an 
order of progress which is his own, though we, in our 
blindness, endeavor to reverse it ; and out of his 
destructions spring up new creations, before which 
the ancient things had no glory, by reason of the 
glory that excelleth. 

Under these impressions we open the Chandler 
School, and attempt the accumulated and difficult 
work before us. At present, if I mistake not, the 



27 



wisest feel, in regard to it, very much like children. 
Equally, if I mistake not, it will be well for us, and 
for the institution, if we lose not our simplicity. We 
would go forvyard, not with profession, but in submis- 
sion; not in self-confidence, but hope; not taking 
our way presumptuously, but feeling it by faith. 
None of the great questions of life dependent on 
human judgment — the questions of philosophy, of 
government, of legislation, of politics, of trade, of 
finance, of education, of propagandism — have yet 
been settled by experiment. They are becoming 
more doubtful among thinking and uncommitted men. 
Men's hearts are failing them, on this account, for 
fear of the things that are coming upon the earth. 
Nothing has been made certain in this world but the 
uncertainty of all things that belong to it. It is wise 
to be sure of nothing, aside from God and his word, 
but our good intentions, and to be resolute in nothing 
but the performance of our duties. That was the 
example of the founder of this School ; and to depart 
from it will be likely to frustrate his designs. For 
years he followed this great idea of his life, — doubtful 
whether it could be realized, not less doubtful of the 
best methods of making the attempt. He considered, 
hesitated, feared, took counsel, modified his judg- 
ments, and at length, in a conflict of doubts and 



28 



anxieties, resolved. He saw that something should 
be done, and that he should do it ; but that the work 
must be undertaken at a risk. When he was ready, 
he took it ; and then the heavens might have fallen 
before he would have been turned from his purpose. 
He was above sordid calculations. He sought not 
his own glory. He had confidence in the importance 
of his object, the integrity of his aims, the wisdom of 
his advisers; and he could do no more. He bestowed 
his charity with a hearty good-will, surrounded it 
with all imaginable safeguards, gave it what seemed 
the best direction, and left the event with God. With 
a like mind we shall best administer his rich endow- 
ment, shall give the surest eifect to his generous 
wishes, and bring about to society, so far as it is the 
will of God, the good which he so disinterestedly 
sought. 



APPENDIX. 



EXTRACT FROM THE WILL OF ABIEL CHANDLER, RECITING 
THE BEQUEST TO DARTMOUTH COLLEGE. 



And after all the foregoing legacies, devises, and other direc- 
tions, which are in their nature to be paid, performed, and satisfied 
without delay, have been fully paid, satisfied, and performed, and 
after provision has been made by my executors for the payment, 
satisfaction, and performance of those in regard to which a post- 
ponement of the same may be needful, I give and dispose of the 
surplus and rest and residue of my estate, real, personal, and 
mixed, as follows, — that is to say, I give and devise the sum of 
fifty thousand dollars thereof to the Trustees of Dartmouth College, 
an institution established at Hanover, in the county of Grafton 
and State of New Hampshire, to have and to hold the same to the 
said corporation of the Trustees of Dartmouth College for ever, — 
but in trust, to carefully and prudently invest or fund the prin- 
cipal sum, and to faithfully apply and appropriate the income and 
interest thereof for the establishment and support of a permanent 
department or school of instruction in said College, in the prac- 
tical and useful arts of life, comprised chiefly in the branches of 
mechanics and civil engineering, the invention and manufacture of 
machinery, carpentry, masonry, architecture, and drawing ; the in- 
vestigation of the properties and uses of the materials employed 
in the arts ; the modern languages and English literature ; together 
with book-keeping and such other branches of knowledge as may 
best qualify young persons for the duties and employments of 
active life: but, first of all and above all, I would enjoin, in con- 
nection with the above branches, the careful inculcation of the 
principles of pure morality, piety, and religion, without introducing 
topics of controversial theology, that the benefits of said depart- 
ment or school may be equally enjoyed by all religious denomi- 
nations without distinction. No other or higher preparatory 



30 



studies are to be required, in order to enter said department or 
school, than are pursued in the common schools of New Eng- 
land. 

It is my earnest desire that the aforesaid Trustees of Dartmouth 
College should conform to my wishes as herein expressed, in regard 
to the management of the property, and the disposal of the same, 
and of the interest and income thereof, which they may receive 
under my Will ; and, to the end that my wishes in respect to the 
foregoing legacy may be observed, I do hereby constitute a per- 
petual Board of Visitors, consisting of two persons, who shall, 
during the term of their respective natural lives, visit the said 
department or school as often as they may deem it necessary and 
advisable to do so, and at least once in each year one or both of 
said Visitors shall examine the condition of its funds, and the 
management and disposition of the same, as well as the manage- 
ment of the affairs of the said department or school generally ; 
and I hereby direct that all the expenses incurred by the said 
Visitors in performing the duties assigned to them under this Will, 
shall be paid by said Trustees of Dartmouth College from the in- 
come derived from this legacy. 

The said Board of Visitors shall have full power to determine, 
interpret, and explain my wishes in respect to this foundation ; to 
redress grievances, both with respect to professors and students ; 
to hear appeals from the decisions of the Board of Trustees, and to 
remedy upon complaint duly exhibited in behalf of the professors 
or students ; to review and reverse any censure passed by said 
Trustees upon any professor or student on this foundation; to 
declare void all rules and regulations made by said Trustees rela- 
tive to this foundation, which may be in their opinion inconsistent 
with my wishes as herein expressed, or improper or injudicious ; 
to take care that the duties of every professor or other officer on 
this foundation be intelligently and faithfully discharged, and to 
admonish or remove such professor or officer either for misbeha- 
vior, incapacity, or neglect of the duties of his office; to examine 
into the proficiency of the students, and to admonish, dismiss, or 
suspend any student for negligence, contumacy, or crime, or dis- 
obedience to the rules hereafter to be established for the govern- 
ment of said school or department ; and to see that my true 
intentions in regard to this foundation be faithfully executed. 

And, in order that said Board of Visitors may not be limited in 
their powers by the foregoing recital, I further confer upon the 
said Board of Visitors all the visitatorial powers and privileges, 



31 



which, by the law of the land, belong and are intrusted to any 
visitor of any eleemosynary corporation. 

In case of the decease or resignation of either of the two persons 
constituting said Board of Visitors, or in case of the disability, 
refusal, or neglect of one of the members of said Board of Visit- 
ors to discharge the duties incumbent on him as Visitor, I direct 
that while such vacancy, disability, or refusal, or neglect happens 
and exists, the other of said Visitors may and shall proceed to dis- 
charge, and shall fulfil, all the duties incumbent upon said Board 
of Visitors, with as full and ample powers, to all intents and pur- 
poses, as if the said Visitors jointly and concurrently acted in the 
premises. 

As I have perfect confidence in the integrity and ability of my 
two esteemed friends, John J. Dixwell and Francis B. Hayes, 
both of Boston aforesaid, and as I know their capacity to perform 
what I desire they should do under this proviso of my Will, I 
constitute and appoint them to be the first Board of Visitors. 

But if either of my said esteemed friends, John J. Dixwell and 
Francis B. Hayes, shall decline accepting the appointment, or in 
case of the decease or resignation of either of them, or in case of 
the decease or resignation of either of the persons who may at any 
time compose said Board of Visitors, I direct that the other shall 
have the power to fill the vacancy, whenever the same may occur 
in said Board, and shall, within one year from the time when such 
vacancy is known by him to have occurred, proceed to fill and 
shall fill the same, by nominating and appointing to such vacancy 
an individual resident in New England, and who shall be, in the 
opinion of the person having the appointing power, qualified 
by his integrity, sound judgment, and good learning, to counsel 
and advise the Trustees of Dartmouth College in respect to the 
best management of the aforesaid department or school and the 
property thereof, and to perform generally the duties of a Visitor 
of this foundation, hereby investing the said Board of Visitors with 
the power of perpetuating themselves ; but, if the said John J. 
Dixwell or Francis B. Hayes, his or their appointees or successors, 
or the survivor of them, shall fail or neglect to appoint to and 
supply the vacancy in the Board of Visitors as aforesaid, within 
one year from the time when such vacancy is knovN^n by him or 
them to have occurred, I request the Judges of the Superior or 
highest State Court in the State of New Hampshire, by whatever 
name said Court may be designated, or a majority of said Judges, 
to appoint to and fill such vacancy in the same manner, subject 



32 



to the same restrictions in regard to the person or persons to be 
selected as Visitors, as the said Dixwell and Hayes, their appoin- 
tees and successors, or survivor of them, might have done. 

I further direct that the persons who shall hereafter be appointed, 
in the manner above set forth to supply the vacancies in said 
Board of Visitors, shall have and exercise all the powers and privi- 
leges herein given to said Board of Visitors, as fully as if they were 
herein specifically named. 

If any diflferences or divisions in opinion should arise and exist 
at any time between the members of said Board of Visitors in 
respect to the matters herewith intrusted to them, I desire that 
the same may be referred, on petition of either member of said 
Board of Visitors, to the Judges of the Superior or highest State 
Court in the State of New Hampshire, by whatever name said 
Court may be designated ; the decision of whom, or a majority of 
whom, shall be final. 

In order to extend to the whole community, as far as is practi- 
cable, the benefits of said department or school, and at the same 
time to ensure its growth and prosperity, I consider it indispen- 
sable that the fees for tuition be moderate, and that the said 
department or school be always open to a limited number of 
indigent and worthy students for gratuitous instruction, — the 
number of beneficiaries and persons to be designated from time to 
time by said Trustees, subject to the approval of said Board of 
Visitors ; and also that the income of the instructors be to some 
substantial extent made to depend on the number of the students 
in actual attendance ; and I, therefore, hereby order and direct 
the said Trustees to establish from time to time such rules as may 
best attain these objects, but subject to the approval and ratifi- 
cation of said Board of Visitors. 

And if said rest and residue shall not amount to fifty thousand 
dollars when received by said Trustees, my will is that said Trustees 
of Dartmouth College shall take the whole of said residue, and the 
whole amount shall be carefully invested and funded on interest, 
and the interest and income added thereto from time to time until 
a capital of fifty thousand dollars shall, by accumulation, or by 
donations from others, be created; and that said capital of fifty 
thousand dollars shall then be secured in the best manner, having 
regard to the safety as well as the productiveness of it, and the 
yearly income thereof be for ever applied to the purposes afore- 
said ; the principal sum to be kept safe and entire. 



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